Euphoria
by Nyxelestia
Summary: Even with his veins flooded with heroin and suppressing his power, and even when he rides high on the chemical bliss, Merlin's magic still sings for Arthur. And Arthur has answered the call. Slash
1. Mercy

_**Euphoria**_

_**A/N:**_** Another kinkme_merlin fic: **_"Arthur/Merlin, modern!AU. Merlin is a drug addict and Arthur wants to help him to become clean."_

* * *

Merlin stumbles into the club, and promptly heads over to a bloke who's looking between young men, almost boys, at the bar, all doing their best to display themselves while still wearing clothes. It reminds him of Arthur's last lifetime, the bloody hippie stage, and god, Merlin wanted to go back.

But, it was the twenty-first century, now. Things are different.

"E'lo," Merlin murmurs into the man's ear, doing his best to stand straight and look like he isn't high off his arse and on the verge of coming down. The man turns – he's about 40-ish, light eyes, pale skin, black hair with some shocks of grey – and leers at Merlin.

"Hand job's a tenner. Blow you for a twenty," Merlin murmurs.

"And to fuck you?"

"Fifty," Merlin breathes into the man's ear. "For each time I can make you come."

The man breathes in sharply, and Merlin takes the man's wrist and tugs towards the side-door, towards the closed off alley. He's on the brink of coming down _hard_, so he needs to get that money fast.

Once out in the alley, Merlin turns to face the man, who pushes on Merlin's shoulders – he gets the message. Dropping to his knees, Merlin undoes the man's fly while calloused fingers run through and clutch his hair. He swallows the man, slathering the cock as much as he can, knowing what's likely coming next.

A moment later, he's proven right. The man initially uses his grip in Merlin's hair to push down, thrusting his cock into Merlin's throat, who's simply too used to this to care much anymore. He had learned how to deep throat a thousand and a half years ago, and he hasn't forgotten yet.

The man then drags Merlin's head off his cock and pulls Merlin up by his hair.

"Drop your pants," the man says, and Merlin's hands fly almost automatically towards his jeans, undoing his own fly and shoving the black denim down, and spreads his legs as best as he can for the man.

As expected, the man is brutal, ruthless, and doesn't last long.

He shoves sixty into Merlin's hands after he's done tucking himself back in. Merlin just gets up and heads out of the club altogether.

Today is Arthur's birthday. Merlin felt his magic sing two decades back to the day, and he couldn't deal with the entire cycle again. He managed mostly just by avoiding Arthur – went in the opposite direction of where his magic told him to go – and only a few years back, discovered that his magic being practically suppressed by drugs was worth the high.

* * *

"Drake…" Merlin says, stumbling into the large room on the ground floor of the flophouse. The man looks up – just a few years older than Merlin supposedly was, and looking far too nice and well groomed to be a drug dealer.

"Hello, Merlin," he said, with a slight smirk as always. "What do you need, today?"

Merlin just sets the entire wad of bills on the table, and Drake counts it, with a nod.

Sitting in a duct-tape supported sofa chair, Merlin waits as Drake disappears to the back room, before he comes back, handing Merlin the rubber strip and the needle.

"Still need help?" Drake offers. Merlin had switched over to heroin only recently, just a few weeks ago.

His magic suffered for it. The rest of him was convinced it was worth it.

Shaking his head, Merlin mumbles his thanks before grabbing both needle and tourniquet and stumbling up the stairs, and to his 'room' on the third floor. He collapses on the pallet in the corner, and immediately flips out the blade on his pocket knife, before tying the rubber around his arm. He looks and feels carefully for a good vein, and sticks himself, injects, and promptly cuts the tourniquet.

And he's flooded with bliss, and melts away into euphoria.

* * *

"Oi, Merlin," Drake says, stopping in his door. "Rent. Now."

Blinking slowly up at the man, Merlin says, "No money."

Drake just cocks his head to the side and smirks. "Blow me and we'll consider it paid 'til the end of the week."

Nodding, Merlin pushes himself up and onto his knees as Drake walks over, undoing his fly, and with no preamble, grabs Merlin's hair and shoves his dick into the waiting mouth.

Merlin puts his usual amount of effort into it, and Drake is thrusting into Merlin's mouth, soon enough, and then shoving his dick down Merlin's throat, straight to the hilt, and trapping Merlin's head there as he came, Merlin grimacing and swallowing what he can.

Drake pulls out, and there's a thin string of leftover cum across the one-inch space between Merlin's lips and the man's prick. Drake smiles and, taking his cock, trails it across Merlin's lips and jaw, and a bit on his cheek, before practically throwing Merlin onto the pallet. He doesn't move from there, just continues to stare up at the ceiling as Drake leaves.

He hears thuds from next door. Someone was going at it like bunnies again. Loud music from above. Acid trip. A crash down stairs. Hopefully, someone was punching Drake again. The yelling confirmed it.

Smiling, he shut his eyes, and started humming in tune with the loud music.

"Merlin!" he hears, in an oddly familiar voice from way down the hall.

Whoever it is probably went by Drake, so it wasn't Merlin's problem yet, until they showed up at his door.

"Merlin?"

Thuds down the hall, and the creak of the doorway.

"Oh, god…Merlin!"

Merlin slowly turns his head. The man is blond, with blue eyes, and a stricken look on his face.

He frowns. The bloke reminds him of-

Oh. It _is_ Arthur.

The frown deepens. "Huh?" he just asks, completely confused, pushing himself up to study Arthur.

Hm. Two decades spent avoiding the man, and he apparently skips out on his birthday to find a random druggie in a random flophouse.

Except the way he's looking at Merlin is anything but random.

"Merlin," the man says, this time his name coming out in almost a breath, as the horror gives way to grief, except for what, Merlin doesn't know.

And the look of horror returns when Merlin inches away upon Arthur's return, ignoring the sparks of magic, deep, deep, _deep_ within him telling him otherwise.

"Go away," is the first thing he manages. First thing he says to the man in over a quarter century.

"Merlin," Arthur says, crouching by the pallet, and reaching out for Merlin, holding his hand back when Merlin flinches away. "Please, you _know_ me."

"Exa'ly," Merlin slurs out. "So go away."

The look on Arthur's face hardens.

"I…we…you're high!"

Merlin nodded, laughing. "Yup!"

"And you're…" Arthur is staring at his cheek, where Drake's cum has dried into a crust. He was planning to clean that off tomorrow.

"Just go away," Merlin moaned. "I've had enough."

Now the prat looked as determined as he used to just before a tournament back in Camelot, and he reaches out and Merlin tries to push himself away, but Arthur grabs hold of Merlin's upper arm in a vice like grip.

Merlin gasps as what feels like electricity, like he's being tasered (again), passes between him and Arthur, and judging by the mirrored gasp and look of shock on Arthur's face, he feels the exchange of power, too.

But he doesn't let go.

Merlin feebly pulls at his arm, but Arthur's grip remains tight.

"You _idiot_," Arthur murmurs, not a drop of affection lost over the last fifteen hundred years, over the last twenty five years since Arthur's last death, or…or…

Merlin pulls at his arm again. "Please, Arthur…I don't…I can't do this again."

"Let's get you clean, first," Arthur said. "Then we'll worry about what we can and can't do."

Merlin moans. "Please, no, I can't watch you live and die again, watch you age again, without me, I can't…I can't…I c-can't…"

"Sh…"

Merlin's dry sobbing, desperately trying to push Arthur away, but only succeeding in losing the support his arms provided, and landing on his back on the pallet again.

Arthur takes a look around the empty room, at Merlin, and sighs. He pulls out a set of keys from his pocket to have ready in his hands, before Merlin's arm is released, and he feels strong arms under his knee and shoulders. He tries again to push away, but they both know the attempts are half-hearted as Arthur carries Merlin out the door.

Merlin suspects he'll never see his room again.

"You're all skin and bones…even worse than that famine in…what was it, fifteenth century?"

Merlin just tiredly leans his head into Arthur's shoulder, and feels Arthur tense a little – the cum _is_ still dried up on his face – but the man just cradles Merlin even closer to his strong chest, and Merlin wonders what sport Arthur got into, this time.

"Hey!" Oh, there's Drake. "Where are you taking him?"

"Somewhere safe, decent, and _civilized_," Arthur said. "And no, he's never coming back."

"Don't you dare-"

"What, you care? Or are you just sorry to lose a client?"

"You little-"

"You take another step, and I _will_ run you through with a chair leg. I've been in rugby since I was five, so don't think I can't."

There's a pause, then, "Just get the fuck out of here."

Merlin turns tiredly towards Drake one last time, who stares at Merlin's cheek where he marked Merlin earlier, and shakes his head, before turning into his backroom.

All of a sudden, Merlin doesn't mind the rescue.

Arthur has a nice Lexus, red, very recent, and very expensive. It's a wonder someone hasn't tried to steal it, yet.

Merlin manages to stand long enough to let Arthur open the door, and then Arthur is buckling him in, gently, almost reverently, like Merlin is made of glass, while Merlin blinks sleepily at Arthur, squinting at him at times in the dim streetlight, and tracks him as he shuts the door, before moving in front of the car and into the driver's seat.

"It's okay, Merlin," Arthur murmurs. "Go to sleep. You're safe, now."

Merlin smiles, nods, and mumbles, "Bloody noble prat."

Starting the car and rolling his eyes, Arthur smiles and says, "I know."

The gentle movements of the car and the presence of Arthur next to him sways Merlin to sleep in no time.

* * *

_**A/N:**_** Please be nice and review for the humble little author who now has to go off and memorize the first fifty elements of the periodic table while bashing self for signing up for freakin' _Honors_ Chemistry.**


	2. Dream, Brother

**A/N:**** So, I've got a formula for this fic: 2H + 2AP + 1ROP + 1 = _**

**Translation: Two Honors classes, two Advanced Placement class, one Regional Occupational Program, and one art class (my only normal class out of six!) equals lots and lots of procrastination-born fic.**

**Zip-a-dee-doo-da.**

**Especially considering I've got an English test coming up (on The Crucible, ironically enough). Aren't I just the model of academic success?**

***coffee withdrawal eyes***

**Anyway, t'is short, but hopefully, erm...I think sweet is the wrong word...  
**

* * *

"Merlin…Merlin…_Merlin_?"

Merlin blinked awake, then tried to blink his way to clarity at the sight of Arthur before him, in the driver's seat. Wait, Arthur? How was he-

Oh…Right.

Home, which was now no longer home. Liquid bliss. Drake. Arthur. And falling asleep in a bloody Lexus next to the damn prat.

Oh, bloody hell. "I'm hallucinating again, aren't I?" Merlin asked, face falling, because this was a very nice hallucination.

"Again?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded slowly, leaning his head back against the headrest. "You're never real."

"…You've hallucinated about me before?" Arthur asked, quietly.

Now Merlin laughed. "Of course I have." It was why he started getting deeper and deeper into his drugs. "One time…you were in full…Camelot armor…and you threw lightning at me. In the middle of a street, too."

At that, Arthur looked positively alarmed. "I _what_?!"

Merlin laughed again, finding the look on Arthur's face rather funny. "Course it wasn't you. Passed out, woke up in jail. Lightning was a taser, I think…the p'lice officer looked just like you!"

Aaaand the look on Arthur's face went from alarm to horror.

"You were _tasered_?! What for?!"

"Mm-mm…" Merlin shrugged. "Why are you asking? You know."

"I know?"

"You're jus' in my head," Merlin said, squinting again, through the darkness of…were they in a cave? Arthur was stopped, that was for sure. Wait, no, it was a parking garage.

"No, Merlin you idiot, I'm _not_! Now tell me, just _what_ were you being tasered for?"

Merlin frowned. "You're not?"

"_Tell_ me…we're getting nowhere with this," Arthur scowled.

Merlin laughed. "Think I was…I pissed on the bloke, I thin'…"

"And he electrocuted you?!" Arthur said, unbuckling his seatbelt, but leaving Merlin's where it was.

"Soho," Merlin said by explanation. "And I still don't get what you're doing here."

"Neither do I," Arthur muttered, but Merlin heard. He always did have good hearing. Maybe the ears?

"Then go away," Merlin grumbled.

A moment later, Merlin laughed at the shocked look on Arthur's face.

"I fail to see what's so funny about this," Arthur said, angry.

"The look on your face," Merlin said, head falling to the side, smiling. "You're a nice hallucination."

And Arthur's face fell. Which made no sense, as he was always well composed in Merlin's head.

The prat launched forward, grabbing Merlin by the shoulders and turning him in the seat so they were facing each other. "Merlin," he said, voice thick with tears he would never shed, grip painfully tight on Merlin's bony flesh. "Listen to me: I am _not_ a hallucination. This is real. You're safe, and you're _home_ now. I'm going to take care of you."

Merlin's head fell to the other side, now, and he shrugged and mumbled, "M'kay."

Arthur suddenly shook Merlin's body. "Tell me what I just said."

Merlin frowned. "You never do this." He looked down at his arm, where a few track marks resided, most already faded with the last dregs of healing magic fighting for his sake. "What did Drake cut that with-"

"Merlin!" Arthur said, shaking Merlin again. "_Look at me_."

Swallowing, mouth impossibly dry, Merlin looked up, Arthur's eyes suspiciously bright under the pale yellow of the car light and the reflection of the headlights against the wall and back into the car. "Please, Merlin. Let me take care of you, show you that I'm _real_."

Another shrug, leaning his head again. "Sure."

Arthur looked about ready to sob at Merlin's drugged and sluggish nonchalance. Ah, well – it would be gone when Merlin woke up. Or at least it would be a different Arthur…he hoped.

From Arthur's pocket, some rock music started playing, and he reached in and pulled out a fancy looking cell phone – the entire front was a screen, and Merlin vaguely remembered having once been given one instead of cash, and he'd made a nice profit in selling it – and he pushed a button, slid the front up, and said, "Lance?"

Merlin frowned. Lance?

"Yea – I found him. He's…you'll see. Are you up there?" A pause, and possibly muttering from the other end of the line. "Gwen and Morgana there? Good. Get Gwen to draw up a bath." Yet another pause, and Arthur's face looked stricken with pain, again. "I just found him in a bloody flophouse, that's why! Look…" Arthur sighed, and leaned his head against the headrest, rubbing his temples, and Merlin laughed again.

This time, the chatter from the phone seemed excited.

"Yes, that was Merlin, Gwen," Arthur said, and since when was Gwen there?

"No," Arthur said. "He's _high_. Did you not just hear the flophouse bit? Val's guesses were right. All of it. Now please, get the bloody bath ready – we'll be up in a few minutes. And tell Lance to get his medic bag, and tell Morgana to review anything she knows about healing spells – we might need it."

And with a click and snap, they were completely alone in the car, again.

Merlin smiled. "Where are we?"

Arthur looked up. "Cardiff. _Home_, to be exact."

Another dopey (heh, _dope_y) grin. "M'kay."

"Are you agreeing because you think you're home, or because you think all this is shite and you'll wake up back in the flophouse?"

Another shrug. "Doesn't matter." Even though Arthur was just a hallucination, he didn't have the heart to tell him it was actually the latter.

Arthur shut his eyes in pain again, and Merlin slumped against the cold window. He heard Arthur leave the car. Then, suddenly, the window was gone, and Arthur was holding Merlin up with his shoulders, unbuckling the seatbelt, and lifting Merlin up the same way as before. Merlin curled up in those strong arms, pressing his face into Arthur's chest (which were well muscled enough to make Merlin wonder what else Arthur did besides rugby), and sighed.

Merlin of all people knew that sometimes, living in a dream was better than facing reality. Arthur probably was a dream, but he was the nicest dream yet, and Merlin was willing to immerse himself in it just a little bit longer.

* * *

**A/N: Please remember to feed the muses so the poor little author gets a break while they eat.**


	3. Goodbye Apathy

_**Chapter 03 Goodbye Apathy**_

* * *

_I can't sleep, no, not like I used to  
I can't breathe in and out like I need to  
It's breaking ice…now, to make any movement  
What's your vice? You know that mine's the illusion_

* * *

Merlin smiled and leaned his head on Arthur's shoulder as they made their way through a posh apartment building. Apparently, it was one flat to every floor, and the building itself was a towering sky scraper.

Arthur seemed to be well off in this hallucination – he had the penthouse flat.

"Rich again?" Merlin mumbled as the lift went towards the top floor – 25. Christ.

"Yeah," Arthur said, somewhat flatly. "I guess I decided for high-strung and rich to make up for the left-over hippie lifestyle of last time."

"Mm," Merlin said, somewhat contentedly. He hoped this one would last right up until he needed the next fix. It was a nice dream, and he was loathe to lose it too soon.

He nuzzled Arthur's shoulder as the lift rose through the building, glad that this hallucination was willing to give him such a nice, firm Arthur.

Looking up when the floor meter said _25_, Merlin remembered what started this entire thing. Well, even if Arthur was only a dream, it was still polite.

"Happy Birthday, Arthur," Merlin said, grinning dopily.

He breathed in sharply in surprise. "You…?"

"Happy birthday to you," Merlin sang into Arthur's flesh. "Happy Birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Arthur. Happy birthday to you." Finished with the song, he laughed and nearly fell out of Arthur's tight grasp around his waist as he added, "What's twenty-five like? I forgot…"

And he kept on laughing until he caught Arthur's pain-stricken expression.

"Wha'?" Merlin asked.

Arthur sighed. "C'mon."

They stumbled out into yet another hall, a very posh hall which was home to a posh prat and it was all very very poshy, and…

There was an intercom by the door. _Very_ posh. Everything was so fucking-

"Lance?" Arthur called through the intercom.

"_Arthur?_"

"We're here," Arthur said, before the intercom cut out. A moment later, the door burst wide open and there stood Sir Lancelot.

Or, well, something Lancelot. Far from the mail and armor of a knight, Lancelot currently sported some gym uniform, loose trousers and tight shirt, and he was even sweating to boot like he'd just popped in from a workout. But the set of his shoulders and expression looked just as humbly regal as ever.

"Merlin!" he cried out, wrapping his arms tight around Merlin.

_Well this is new…_ Merlin rarely ever dreamed of more than one of them at a time. But, hey, this dream was already weird enough, so he hugged back. Only polite.

"Merlin!" he heard two voices in the background. Oh, shit, what the _hell_ had Drake cut the dope with? He practically never dreamed of all of them at once!

As such, he was left standing there at a bit of a loss when two pairs of more feminine arms wrapped tightly around him, but a moment later, Gwen and Morgana stepped back, their faces faltering as they took in Merlin's appearance.

"This is new…" he mumbled.

For a moment, they looked thrown for a loop, before Arthur said, "Ignore him – he thinks he's hallucinating and doesn't believe we're real."

"You're not," Merlin said stubbornly. "You can't be."

He didn't see Arthur's reaction, but the other three looked about ready to cry as they stepped aside and allowed Arthur to drag Merlin in. What was their problem?

The flat matched the rest of the building. Posh. Uber posh. Poshity-posh.

It was all modern deco crossed with antique styling, rich hardwood flooring mixed with futuristic furniture, soft yellow lights by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the artsy one-room flat. Or, well, there were a few doors, but an office and living room and dining room and kitchen were all in the main area. And that was most of the important stuff, anyway.

There was a large half-circle of sofas and couches facing a large media center on one wall, and Arthur plopped Merlin down on the sofa facing away from the window. The squashy leather tried to eat Merlin, and the thought of being eaten by a sofa made him laugh.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, dubiously. "What, exactly, is so funny?"

"Your carnivorous furniture," Merlin said, bursting out laughing at the look of confusion on Arthur's face. And really, everyone said _he_ was the thick one.

"What the hell is he _on_?" Lancelot said, crouching before Merlin. "Well, Merlin?"

"Diacetylmorphine," Merlin giggled out. Or, wait, no – he blurted out with…with a manly, soft, voiced chuckle. It'd been fun to learn the real names for everything running in his blood. "Dope!"

"Oh, _no_…" Lancelot said, face falling farther than astronauts from space.

"What?" Gwen asked. "What is it?"

"_Heroin_," Lancelot said.

"_What_?!" Arthur shouted. "He's on fucking _heroin_?!"

"That's what diacetylmorphine is," Lancelot said.

"Wha's it matter?" Merlin asked, still giggling at the feeling of the squashy carnivorous furniture under his rather sore arse. That man from the alley had not been kind.

None of them ever were.

"Merlin?" Lancelot asked, carefully. "How much did you take?"

"Um…spoo'ful?" he offered, cocking his head and grinning.

Lancelot's lips tightened, and he sighed, looking towards Arthur. "Let's hope it's a small spoon."

Merlin shrugged. "Nice to see you again. However long you last."

There was a pause, before suddenly, Arthur's hand was slapping him upside the head. "We're real, Merlin. Get used to it."

Merlin shook his head. "You _can't_ be real…you're never real…" He looked up at Arthur. "Please don't be real."

Arthur shut his eyes, and turned away from Merlin towards an equally pained-looking Lancelot, and said, "So what do we do about this? How do we treat him?"

"Without going to a rehab, I presume?" Lancelot asked, sighing. "You'll probably need to stay with him, keep a constant eye on him, for about a week, in terms of detox. Longer, in terms of reuse. No one quits suddenly and doesn't want it back."

"I can stay, obviously, I've got about a month before I have anywhere to be," Arthur said.

"We can switch off for you to get some rest," Morgana offered. "Make sure he doesn't-"

"I'm right here," Merlin complained. Why the hell were they talking without him? Did hallucinations do that?

Maybe they _were_ real…

No.

Merlin shook his head firmly as they carried on without him. There was no way this was real.

"I's not gonna work," Merlin insisted. "I'll wake up, and get my next fix, and booooom! No more dopesickness."

"What the…Lance?" Arthur asked.

"Addicts' word for withdrawal," Lancelot said. Merlin watched as Gwen made something in the kitchen, Morgana read something on a laptop on the sofa opposite of Merlin, and Arthur sat on the couch, Lancelot leaning against Merlin's sofa as he talked. "I'll try and get some of the meds used to treat withdrawal-"

"Treat drugs with more drugs?" Arthur growled. "How does that help him?"

"It's clonidine I'm interested in," Lancelot said. "That'll cut down on the severity of some of the symptoms. Baclofen, too. Methadone…"

"Does?" Arthur demanded.

"It's a synthetic opium," Morgana answered. "It's not actually heroin, but it has a lot of the similar effects of opioids, and works similar on opioid receptors in the brain as actual dope does." She wasn't reading it from the fancy laptop.

"So it's fake-heroin?" Arthur asked.

"I want the real one," Merlin grumbled, scratching his arms and glancing towards the door.

He felt a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder as Arthur said, "Don't even think about it."

"It can wean him off the drugs," Lancelot said, grip and pressure on Merlin's shoulder never weaning. "But it's harder to get and can extend the withdrawal period, and if you're hoping to stifle temptation…"

"Will it help?"

"Physically? Yes. Psychologically? Maybe. But either way, it'll be hard to get, much harder than the others."

"Get what you can," Arthur said. "I'll make sure he doesn't leave my sight. His magic doesn't work-"

"It does too work!" Merlin grumbled indignantly.

"Just not as well," Arthur said, somewhat pointedly. "Morgana?"

"I can handle him when his magic gets back stronger," she said. "…it just means I probably won't be able to have a drink for a while." She didn't sound cheered by that.

"None of us will," Arthur said with determination.

Sighing, Lancelot stood up fully and said, "I'll have to go, if I want to get them fast."

Arthur nodded, and the grip from Merlin's shoulder disappeared completely, leaving a cold spot to replace the warmth of Lance's hand.

Some things never changed. Not even in Merlin's dreams.

Lance left, along with Morgana, both of them citing something about work, and Arthur got up with a morose sigh. "Gwen, did you-"

"Yeah," she said, before hurrying from the kitchen through one of the doors. "Bring him in!"

Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm roughly and dragged him up, the gruff manner betrayed by Arthur's gentle hold on Merlin as he prodded him to what turned out to a bathroom. A large, Greek-god type bathroom, with a large shower encased in clear glass, a bathtub that was more like a hot-tub, and marble tile everywhere, in more of the soft golden light Arthur seemed to prefer.

"Are you going to be late for work?" Arthur asked, as he sat Merlin down on a bench off the tub, between it and the shower, facing away from the sinks and the large mirrors, but facing large mirror-doors that seemed to lead into a big fucking closet.

"I can take some time off," Gwen said, reassuringly.

In the mirror, Merlin winced at just how awful he looked. His reddened eyes almost bruised from the lack-of-sleep shadows, sallow skin beneath the filmy layer of grime, hair matted, his thin tee-shirt, black and terrifyingly loose for such a tight cut, was rumpled and with the hems torn, tight black jeans in much the same condition, blood on the back of his hands, hints of white crust on his face.

He looked every bit the drugwhore he was.

"Don't," Arthur said, walking into the walk-in closet to grab something, coming out with a large bundle of various cloths in his arms. "Your work is strained as it is. I'll take care of him."

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking worriedly. Even Gwen never changed in his dreams. Sweet and caring as always.

"Yeah," Arthur said, dumping the bundle on the other end of the bench and eyeing the tub full of water critically.

"At least let me set everything out," she said, setting up several bottles and sponges in a little wooden caddy also hanging off the tub.

While she did that, Arthur tugged off Merlin's shirt. Or tried. But Merlin protested. This was _his_ dream, and he didn't want Arthur to see the true state of him.

But Arthur had strength on his side, and after a moment, Gwen came in, and somehow, they had Merlin naked in seconds, Merlin turning his face away from the reactions this cruel, cruel dream would inflict.

He heard a sharp gasp, and a moment later, Arthur was pulling Merlin's face forward, grief in his face as he asked, "What happened?"

Merlin looked in the mirror. He was covered in thin scars and bruises, the most prominent of them being the hand-shaped bruises on Merlin's hips, ankles, and shoulders.

"My job," Merlin said, with a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept that the vision in the mirror was him. He'd assume his mind was playing tricks on him, but it's been so consistent so far…maybe his magic was messing with him again? It's been a few centuries since that happened, but who knew. "Occupational hazard."

Arthur's face turned grim and determined, and Gwen was crying as she left.

With a regretful sigh, Arthur stood up and rolled up his sleeves – he had nice arms, too, what _did_ Arthur do in this life time. "Vamanos – _in_."

Merlin stared at Arthur. "Huh?"

"It means come on," Arthur said, as he lifted Merlin up. "Spanish."

"Is that why you have the fucked accent?" Merlin asked.

"No," Arthur said, sitting Merlin on the edge of the large tub. "_That's_ a long story for later. In!"

And with that, Arthur put Merlin in.

"AH!" Merlin yelled out in shock as he landed in the hot water. Too hot, too hot too hot toohottoohot-

"Shh…" Arthur soothed as he lay Merlin back in the water.

Breathing heavily, Merlin nodded absently as the water slowly immersed him. This dream was getting weird.

And he couldn't bear the thought of this being real.

"Now, then," Arthur said, long suffering, as he reached for a bottle of liquid soap and a scrub sponge, lathering it up with foaminess. "Let's get you cleaned up."

For the next hour, Merlin lay there in the water, letting Arthur clean him thoroughly, clearing away weeks of grime and filth and shame, and Merlin mourned how he would feel once it returned when he woke up.

Arthur winced whenever he came across a bruise or cut or the blood, and when he cleaned off the cum from his face and blood from his thighs, he'd had to stop to…well, something, do something that involved him shutting his eyes and taking several deep breaths and muttering to himself before his eyes opened again and he continued.

It was weird, how a dream could be so cruel and so nice. Like that time Lance showed up naked in Picadilly Circus riding that stupid motorbike from WWII and carrying a rifle. That was a weird dream, too. Merlin was pretty sure whatever he'd had that night had been cut with something else.

When the bath was done, Merlin fidgeted as Arthur dried him off and wrapped him in a towel, before lifting him up and carrying him straight to his bedroom. He tried fighting back, knowing Arthur was no longer listening to him, but he couldn't budge, and squawked in indignation as he was dumped onto Arthur's large and plush bed.

He pushed himself up only to have Arthur pulling the towel away and yanking on a shirt over Merlin, followed by a pair of underpants and some sweatpants, which despite their elasticity were only barely on this side of not slipping right off Merlin's frame.

"Can I _go_, now?" Merlin asked, desperately, pushing himself up, feeling his blood itch for another dose, another fix. He didn't know if he had enough money left to pay for it and if Drake was in a bad mood who _knew_ what he would make Merlin do to pay for the next fix and honestly that man in the alley had torn him to bits and Arthur wasn't real so he _hadn't_ fixed Merlin up and-

"No," Arthur said.

Merlin growled and got up, wobbling slightly but heading towards the door. He made it one step before Arthur's strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and shoved him onto the bed, and a moment later, he found Arthur straddling him, and leaning forward to pin Merlin's wrists and shoulders to the bed.

"I'm not letting you go, Merlin," Arthur insisted, his face softening even as Merlin desperately, futilely, tried to wriggle out of Arthur's grasp.

After a few minutes, Merlin finally gave up, realization dawning on him in tune with sweating and achy muscles and the desperate need to _move_ and the complete inability to.

He stared up at Arthur in a daze, realizing it actually _was_ Arthur. Which was impossible, because Merlin had urged his magic that he didn't want to be found, never wanted to be found again, let them live their lives and let Merlin have his not-life, but then, no-

Arthur seemed to deign Merlin safe, because after a moment, he let go, and crawled off Merlin, perching on the edge of the bed and clutching Merlin's hand in his own.

"You're real, aren't you?" Merlin asked, staring in something akin to horror in relief and none of it made any _sense_ anymore.

Sighing, Arthur said, "That's what we've been telling you all this time, Merlin."

Merlin stared at this dream which wasn't a dream at all, and shut his eyes.

A moment later, the room echoed with the sounds of his sobs, his world narrowed down to that sound, and Arthur's hand holding onto his own, as reality came crashing down around him.

* * *

_And all at once_

(As I'm trying)

_I can help you out_

(Just to keep things right)_  
_

_I'll be what you need_

(I kill myself to make everything perfect for ya)

_I'll do anything_

_Goodbye apathy, so long apathy…_

* * *

**A/N:**** The song is "Goodbye Apathy" by **_**OneRepublic**_**. Reviews are love. :D  
**


	4. Tears of an Angel

**Sorry it's been so long, my lovely readers! Left the fandom for a while, but now I'm back!**

**Song:** _**Tears of an Angel**_** by RyanDan**

* * *

_Stop every clock  
Stars are in shock  
The river will flow to the sea  
I won't let you fly  
I won't say goodbye  
I won't let you slip away from me_

* * *

For a while, Merlin didn't know how long, he lay there, trembling and sobbing, Arthur holding on tightly to him while he tried to push away. Neither of them ever actually said a word – Merlin just shook and cried, and Arthur held Merlin close and continuously rubbed Merlin's back and arms in comforting circles, comfort Merlin did not want, but craved all the same.

"Please, let me go…" Merlin begged, even as he clung onto Arthur's shirt. "I can't do this anymore."

"Merlin, it'll be alright-"

"No it won't!" Merlin insisted. "It won't. For a few decades, it'll be fine, but one day, you'll grow old, and you'll die, and I'll be alone again!"

"I'll come back, Merlin, I always do!" Arthur said.

Merlin tried to pull away again. "That's not the problem! It's…it's…I keep having to watch you die, Arthur, and it doesn't hurt any less when I know you're going to come back!"

Arthur watched in shock as Merlin curled in on himself and started crying again.

Merlin's perception of time was different. 'A few decades' for him was a lifetime for Arthur. But how…Merlin had been so strong, so brave, for them all, so they could save the world over and over and over again.

"Merlin…" he breathed out, because he didn't know what to say. Instead, he slowly and gently wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist, pulling him close. Merlin didn't seem to notice.

Pressing his lips to the back of Merlin's neck, Arthur said, "We always come back, Merlin. I always come back. I'm never leaving you behind."

"You always do," Merlin choked out. "You always leave. It doesn't matter that you come back, you always leave!"

Arthur pushed himself back enough to roll Merlin over, so he was facing Arthur. Then Arthur pulled him close again, pressing his lips to Merlin's head and letting Merlin cry into his shoulder as he rubbed Merlin's back, relearning the feel of Merlin in his arms, the feeling of Merlin's muscles against his own, Merlin's breath against his neck, Merlin's skin warming his own. He relearned how to be Merlin and Arthur again, two as one.

He always felt so incomplete without Merlin. But Merlin had to endure that feeling for much longer than Arthur ever had to, and with full knowledge of what he was missing – Arthur, at least, spent his time before his memories came back missing something he didn't know and couldn't miss any further than his soul. It was little comfort, but compared to Merlin, it was all the world.

There was no silence to be broken as Merlin continued to cry, and Arthur never felt more helpless in all his lives as he held Merlin now.

* * *

Arthur had known handling Merlin's withdrawal wouldn't be easy, but he hadn't actually expected for it to be this difficult, either.

As per Lance's suggestion, he brought Merlin ibuprofen and Lucozade, but Merlin threw them both away.

"Merlin," Arthur pleaded, picking up all three of the ibuprofen pills. A little extra. They had no idea when Merlin last died, or how, to figure out what his drug tolerance would be, and Arthur had some misgivings about the dose but if Merlin was had been on as much heroin as the needles he'd seen in that _hellhole_seemed to indicate…

"I don't want your help," Merlin snapped, backing away to the other side of the bed. "Just let me go, Arthur. Every single one of your lifetimes I've been there for you, let me have this one for myself!"

"No," Arthur said. "We've been through worse, Merlin, we can get through this together. Just a week and you'll be fine-"

Merlin laughed, the sound chilling Arthur to his bones. "Yeah, because everyone junkie out there can be locked up for a week and cured. That's why they don't have such things as relapses-_oh, wait.._"

Arthur flinched at Merlin's scathing tone. But he knew Merlin, he could see all this was a ploy. The real Merlin was deep down in there, still, and he would do whatever it takes to get him out.

He picked up the sports drink and pills. "Look…this won't be easy, Merlin, not by any means, but we can start with this and work our way out of this, okay? We'll get you through withdrawals and deal with everything else as it comes-"

"Yeah and we'll leave a happy little life for the next happy few decades and then _you'll die_," Merlin said, voice harsh and rasping.

Day 1 and Arthur already felt tired. He held onto the drink and pills tightly and said, "Please, Merlin, just – let's do this a little bit at a time, yeah, just focus on the next two weeks and-"

"I am doing this a little bit at a time!" Merlin cried out. "In case you've forgotten, I'm over fifteen _centuries_ old! A few decades is nothing to me." Arthur realized with a start Merlin's eyes were wet with held back tears. "Your lifespan is nothing to me. You'll leave me and come back and leave me and come back and I'm going to stay stuck right here and I can't do anything about it and I can't end it because _I can't die_."

Arthur stared at Merlin trying desperately to think of something to do through Merlin's tirade.

"What happens if you 'fix me', Arthur?" Merlin shouted.

"What happens if we don't?" he challenged. "How long are you going to wander around London whoring yourself for your next fix?"

Merlin smirked. "I was here before London was anything but an abandoned Roman trading settlement. I'll probably be here loooooong after this damnable city is gone."

"And where will you and your precious heroin be then?"

"I'm sure there will be other things to get high on by then. In all my time alive, if you can call me alive, people have never run out of finding new ways to truly fuck themselves up. That's the thing about people. They'll chase pleasure to their deaths, and I'll just keep on watching and watching and watching and watching and watching-"

"Stop!"

"That's just it, Arthur, I can't!"

There was a momentary silence, before Merlin turned around to stare at the wall, breathing harshly.

"Do you really think withdrawal will do anything, Arthur?" Merlin asked. "You can just kill me and when I wake back up I'll be good as new again, no drugs in my system as all. Easy detox with no withdrawal."

"Is that how you've been doing it?" Arthur asked. "If you ran low you just killed yourself so that you could skip the withdrawal? Skipping the pain of withdrawal and risking sobriety for the sake of your next hit?"

Merlin didn't respond.

Coming up behind him, Arthur said, "Merlin," and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He hadn't anticipated just how much of a nervous wreck Merlin would be.

* * *

"This isn't healthy," Gwaine said, when he came by to help Arthur.

"_He_isn't healthy," Arthur said. "I have to help him. I…I wasn't there for him."

"His health shouldn't come at the cost of yours," Gwaine said as he pressed some ice over Arthur's black eye. "When did this happen anyway?"

"…we were talking," Arthur said curtly.

"This, Arthur, isn't just _talking_!"

"Well it will have to make do," Arthur said.

Gwaine swallowed. "In more than a thousand years I don't remember him being like this. He's fallen into alcoholism three times and he's been addicted to drugs twice. But he was already quick and happy to jump off the wagon once we found him! Why's he like this now?"

"Because he dreads being here when we die," Arthur said. "He wants to be away before that can happen."

Gwaine shut his eyes with an almost pained look on his face. "Merlin…" he practically whimpered out.

"Exactly," Arthur said, smiling at him gratefully as he pulled off the ice and went to brave his room, clutching at his Lucozade and ibuprofen as if they could substitute for his sword and shield of their first lifetime of legend.

Arthur threw Gwaine one last wish-me-luck look, before quickly stepping into his room and shutting the door behind him before Merlin could even realize it was open.

A moment later, Gwaine tried not to wince at the screaming he heard coming from Merlin, demanding to leave, but it wasn't easy.

"What has happened to you, my friend?" he murmured to the kitchen at large, before moving to stand by the door. For all that Merlin always seemed like he needed protection, it was who really needed it, right now.

Gwaine stared at the doorknob as he heard Arthur say, "Merlin, please, you need to drink something."

"No I don't!" Merlin snapped. Gwaine wondered when the last time he drank something was. It could be days for all they knew.

"You haven't drunken anything since you got here, or before that! That's twenty-six hours I know you didn't have anything. Please, just take this. You need to drink, and eat."

Merlin laughed, cold and heart-wrenching, and said, "Why bother? It's not like it matters if I die!"

Gwaine flinched, and wondered how Arthur seeing Merlin's face as he said that. Gwaine didn't even want to imagine it.

"Yes it does, Merlin," Arthur said.

"I've died dozens of times since your birth, Arthur, trust me when I say it doesn't matter!"

"Please, stop this, Merlin," Arthur pleaded.

"You think I haven't asked that? You think I don't want this to stop?"

Gwaine shut his eyes and turned away. He thought back to their first life time, their original one, long before they were legends.

When Merlin was just a cheerful servant and Arthur was a dutiful prince and Gwaine was a vagabond who wasn't nearly as amoral as he'd liked to have been.

Magic, Strength, and Courage.

He supposed there was a reason why Arthur was Courage. But he wondered how right that bridge-keeper could have possibly been about him as he turned away and fled to the kitchen, trying to prepare some sandwiches for Arthur and himself.

* * *

"Anything?" Morgana asked when she dropped by later on with some groceries.

Gwaine shook his head. "Just more of Merlin trying to talk Arthur into letting him go and Arthur refusing. Your wards are all that's holding him in now…"

"And they won't for long," Morgause said, coming up behind her (full, in this lifetime) sister with the other groceries. "There is only so much we can do, but if Arthur isn't able to talk Merlin down soon, then we will need to dose Merlin with the pseudo-opiates Lance was talking about – even our magic combined is no match for Merlin."

Gwaine looked mournfully at the door to Arthur's bedroom, where he was still locked inside with Merlin. "I hate this."

"I'm sure," Morgause said curtly. "But we have to face reality. Merlin's snapped and we're stuck fixing it."

Gwaine turned his head back to direct a withering glare at her. "You sound like you're blaming him."

"Well, he's the one that went off and became a junkie, isn't he?" she challenged.

"Morgause," Morgana said quietly, stilling her sister. They shared a long look that Gwaine was sure contained an entire conversation, before Morgana looked at Gwaine.

"Do you think you can check on them?"

"Not yet," Gwaine said. "At this stage I think it would be better to wait for Arthur to come out."

* * *

Merlin itched.

Not just his skin, his muscles, his bones. Though those certainly itched, thank you Uncle Mac.

No – his magic itched, too. And he knew why, he could recognize Morgana and Morgause's wards keeping him in. Their magic couldn't compare to what they had in their first lifetime – no one's did – but until he made it through withdrawal, Merlin knew it would be enough.

He didn't _want_to make it through withdrawal.

His soul might've itched a bit, too.

"…you can't keep me here forever," Merlin said bitterly to Arthur.

He had a nice, dark corner. Nice, dark corners were good.

It was away from any of the light cast by the windows, opposite to the walk-in closet door. He sat on the floor with his knees folded up to his collarbone, his arms crossed under his thighs and hands holding onto the opposite ankles.

There needed to be more nice, dark corners in the world. Easily accessible ones, anyway.

Arthur was seated safely over by the bed. Merlin's heart twisted a little every time he took note of just how haggard Arthur looked, the black eye he'd given him, but if wearing him down was what it would take to get him to let Merlin go, then so be it.

Merlin would do anything short of truly hurting Arthur.

(He tried not to see the bruise, he really did.

Because for all the fifteen hundred years of agony Arthur's caused him, Merlin still couldn't bear to hurt him.)

"I'll try," Arthur said softly, almost weakly. "I'll spend my whole life if I have to, Merlin."

Between them the bottle of Lucozade lay on its side where Merlin had thrown it when Arthur tried to get him to drink some.

Merlin shut his eyes. "Then you'll die and then where will we be? Just let me go and we can all go on with our lives-"

"No we can't, Merlin," Arthur said. "I can't do this without you."

Merlin clamped his hands over his ears, but it couldn't block out Arthur's, "We need each other."

"No we don't," he lied. "We can get on just fine without each other."

Arthur snorted. "Because you were doing so well."

"I was, before you interfered!" Merlin snapped. "And look at you, Arthur, you were obviously doing brilliantly without me. If I were able to recognize you based on a photo I would've known you since you were a child!"

The downside of Merlin's magical recognition was that he had to see them in person for it to work. It didn't matter what they looked like, whether nearly identical to their original lifetime like now, or nothing like it, like the time they'd all been reborn in India.

Carvings, paintings, photographs – none of those worked.

Which was a pity, because Arthur had been on movie posters for more than a decade, now. Merlin could have been seeing him all over London's theaters and billboards.

But now that he knew, now he could say, "You're rich and famous and everyone loves you, Arthur, you were clearly doing brilliantly without me."

Arthur shook his head. "Doing brilliantly is not the same as being brilliant and you know it. I always felt like I'm missing something and that something was you."

"You'll live," Merlin snapped.

"Would I want to?" Arthur offered.

Merlin had no answer for that.

* * *

Gwaine wished he was more surprised than he actually was when Arthur came out alone.

He glimpsed the bright bottle and the little pills strewn across the dark, plush carpet of Arthur's bedroom floor, before the door closed on the last vestiges of his king.

* * *

_Cover my eyes  
Cover my ears  
Tell me these words are a lie..._

* * *

**I've undertaken a quest recently to improve my writing, so any and all concrit is much appreciated - every little bit helps! And of course, any other feedback is loved as well. :)**


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